


Conduit

by Verbal_Scribe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verbal_Scribe/pseuds/Verbal_Scribe
Summary: Voldemort is not fooling around, and Harry begins to understand why the magical community won't say the Dark Lord's name.
Kudos: 4





	Conduit

A/N: Hello! This is the first thing I'm writing in 9 years. It blows my mind that it's been that long. On the off-chance that anyone who read my previous story has returned, thank you very much for being here and for the support on the last story.

  
I got ahead of myself with the other story, made some basic mistakes and wrote myself into a corner.

For this story, I make no promises about it's progress. I am writing this for myself. I have an idea and I'd like to experiment with it to see where it goes. As an avid reader of Fanfiction, I completely understand if people don't want to read something that has an unsure future.

If you stick around, though, thanks and enjoy.

This story has some ideas that are inspired by various fanfiction I've read over the last few years, particularly “The House of Potter Rebuilt” by DisobedienceWriter. If you've read that, you'll see the influence in Voldemort's attitude.

Anyways, I do not own Harry Potter, etc. Here we go.

Conduit

Harry could smell the dirt, his nose hovering centimeters above the ground. Sweat dripped from his face, and it was all he could do to keep from collapsing into the sweat and blood that had pooled in the mud below him.

A foot, cold and wet, stomped down on his fingers, breaking them. He cried out, helpless.

“To think that this whimpering little worm is the hope of the wizarding world.” Voldemort stood above Harry, holding two wands.

“It was a foolish mistake on my part that let you survive in the first place, Harry Potter. And here you are, laying in the dirt where you belong. Alone.”

Harry said nothing. What was there to say? It was true. He was alone, wandless, horribly injured, and scared. This was Lord Voldemort. This was the man whose name wizards dared not utter. His presence was stifling, his power overwhelming.

And Harry was just a boy. A foolish boy who had known the Dark Lord was trying to return, had known since his first year, and had done nothing but survive. He had not prepared, not really...

When the Dark Lord had challenged him to a duel earlier, and Pettigrew had untied him, his first spell had been a disarming charm. He had tried to _disarm _the most vile and powerful dark lord in the last century. 

These thoughts were scattered, coming in and out as Harry tried to stay conscious.

Voldemort pushed Harry onto his back with his foot. Harry's head finally hit the ground, and through cracked glasses, he saw the Dark Lord crouch over him.

Voldemort pressed his fingernail into the scar on Harry's forehead.

“To think that such a little thing has become such a symbol.” Voldemort pierced Harry's skin with his nail, and sliced a fresh path along the lightning bolt scar.   
  
“That's my gift to you, little earthworm, lest you forget how pathetic you truly are.” The Dark Lord flicked Harry in the forehead, and rose, turning his back on his victim. 

Voldemort paused without looking back. Harry felt a strange sensation, as if some part of him was being torn off and sucked out of his scar. It was not painful, but it was intensely uncomfortable, and Harry didn't understand what was happening. Between all the other injuries, and the pure shame of his situation, he didn't have the time or energy to figure out which thing was making him feel what.

Tears leaked from his eyes in a steady stream, adding a final ingredient to the mixture soaking the back of Harry's head.

“Now that that's taken care of, I bid you adieu, Harry Potter. Try to be less pitiful the next time we cross paths.” The Death Eaters throughout the graveyard chuckled, relishing in their master's flawless power. “While I have certainly enjoyed regaining a body, the rest of the affair was an utter drag.” 

With that, he addressed his followers a final time. “Come, my loyal Death Eaters, let us go find some entertainment for the evening. Let us remind the world that fear belongs to them, and they belong to me!”  
  
The Death Eaters cheered, and with a chorus of pops, Harry was alone.

Seconds (maybe it was hours) later, Harry saw a bright flash of flame, and Fawkes was there. The phoenix song reverberated through him like a long forgotten lullaby, and soothed aches he hadn't realized were there.

He did not realize Dumbledore had come along until his face was hanging over Harry's.  
  
“My dear boy,” he said, looking far older and sadder than Harry had ever seen him. “I am so sorry it took us so long to get here.”  
  
Harry struggled for words, any coherent thought escaping him. He settled on “Voldemort.”

Dumbledore patted the boy gently, “Yes, I know. Do not worry about that right now. Rest, we will talk once you are better.” With a subtle motion of the hand, Dumbledore put Harry to sleep, and with a final trill, Fawkes took them both back to Hogwarts.

****HP****

Harry did not wake easily or quickly. There were moments where he heard voices, and moments where the silence was louder than anything he'd ever heard.

At some point, he became particularly aware of someone holding his hand. It was warm, soft, and familiar. He had a sense that this hand had held his like this before.

After laying there for a long time, focusing on the feeling of the hand, he managed to force his eyes open. It was night, and the hospital wing was dark, but even the few candles that were lit made his eyes ache.

Turning his head slowly, he saw Hermione asleep, her head resting on the side of his mattress while she held his hand. Her brow was furrowed, like she was having a bad dream. He squeezed her hand gently.

She awoke and sat up quickly, as if she'd only been half asleep and waiting for him to move.  
  
“Harry!” her voice was soft, uncharacteristically gentle for this situation. “Oh my goodness, I'm so happy you're awake. How are you feeling?”  
  


Harry shrugged. He was not feeling very good, certainly, but he didn't feel as bad as he had in the graveyard. For him, that was a plus.

“Oh, I can't imagine what you've been through, I'm so sorry this happened to you, we should have been-”  
  
Harry squeezed her hand, and she stopped. She took a deep breath, and smiled gently. “Do you need anything?”  
  


He realized then that Hermione was a big fuzzy blur. He reached up and pointed at his eyes.

“Oh, yes of course!” She reached over to the bedside table and picked up his glasses, then gently put them on his face. He didn't usually like it when people did that, but for once he let it slide. He was tired, and she seemed to enjoy being able to help him. He smiled at her, and squeezed her hand as thanks.

She frowned slightly. “You're not saying anything. Is something wrong? Wait, let me go get Madam Pomfrey.” Before he could think about shaking his head, she was off to the other side of the ward, knocking at Pomfrey's door.

There was some shuffling and chatter, and out came the mediwitch, hustling over to her patient's side.  
  
“Oh, Mr. Potter, I'm glad to see you awake.” She started waving her wand, casting spells to check his vitals and get an update on his condition. “How long have you been awake?”  
  
Harry shrugged, and looked at Hermione. She frowned again and said to the nurse, “He hasn't said anything yet, just communicated non-verbally. Is his throat injured?”

Pomfrey raised her eyebrows and cast a few spells, most of them aimed at his throat. “There doesn't seem to be any obvious issue... are you in any pain?” When Harry shook his head, she continued. “Would you please say something, Mr. Potter? Just so we know you can speak?”  
  


It was then that Harry really thought about it and decided that honestly, he didn't actually _want_ to say anything. What was the point? What could he say that would make anything better? He was nothing, had been shown to be nothing, and what does a nothing have to say of value?   
  
He shrugged, and then shook his head. 

Hermione grabbed his hand again. “Oh, Harry.”

Poppy pursed her lips, and then sighed. “Well, Mr. Potter, if you have no objections, I'd like to call Headmaster Dumbledore, would that be okay? He maybe able to help.”

Harry nodded his head. He didn't think he would say anything to the headmaster, but if he needed to see anyone right now, it was the headmaster. Dumbledore would know what to say about Voldemort.  
  
At least, he hoped so.

A few minutes later, the headmaster walked in to the hospital wing and looked utterly exhausted. Harry wondered if the man had slept recently. Harry wasn't even sure how long he'd been unconscious.

Dumbledore stopped next to Hermione and laid a hand on her shoulder. “My dear, you have been a wonderful and steadfast friend, and I am sure Harry is very glad to have you by his side.” The headmaster smiled gently at her. “However, I would ask that you head off to bed for the night. You deserve to have a good night's sleep in your own bed, and I must speak to Harry about some rather sensitive topics.”  
  
Hermione frowned once again. The bookworm had never been a fan of being left out of the loop, and when it came to her best friend, she was even more reticent. “I can handle whatever you have to say, Headmaster!”  
  
Dumbledore smiled gently at her and replied, “Of that, I have no doubt. However, some of these topics are rather particular, and if what Madam Pomfrey says is true, this may be a rather one-sided discussion.”  
  
“But-”

Harry squeezed her hand again, and when she looked at him, he simply shook his head. There were things that he was not ready for her, or anyone, to know about that night. He wished he could make it vanish into nothingness and pretend it hadn't happened at all. But that couldn't happen. It was all too real, now.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, and then gave a deep sigh. “Promise me you'll catch me up later?”  
  
Harry nodded, and with a final smile, Hermione leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek. “I'll see you soon. Don't strain yourself.” She then got up, bid the headmaster and the mediwitch goodnight, and left the ward.

The headmaster turned to Madam Pompfrey and said, “If you don't mind, Poppy, I'd like to ask for some privacy. This make take some time, and as I told Ms. Granger, some of the topics are best kept between Harry and myself.”

Having worked all these years with the leader of the light, she simply nodded and said, “If you need anything, I'll be in my office updating his file.” She turned to Harry. “I'll speak to you tomorrow, Mr. Potter. Please don't strain yourself.” At Harry's nod, she turned and went back to her office. 

Harry and the headmaster sat there in silence for a moment.

“Harry, my boy,” he started, then stopped. He was not making as much eye contact as he normally would, and his eyes had lost their typical sparkle. Even his robes were a muted wine red. So unlike him. 

“Harry,” he started again, “I believe the best way to go about this is for me to view the memory directly. Have you heard of Legilimency?” Harry shook his head, unfamiliar with the term. “Well, simply put, Legilimency is a mind magic that allows the user to enter another person's mind and view it's contents.”   
  
Harry's eyes got wide at the implication. But Dumbledore was quick to stem the tide of concerns. 

“To put you at ease, let me explain. First of all, there are only a few wizards in the world who are skilled in Legilimency, and only a handful who could do it without you being aware of it. I am one of those, but I can assure you, I do not use it without consent.” He looked at Harry, gauging the boy's reaction. “Second of all, non-consensual Legilimency is illegal, but nationally and internationally. It has the capacity to do things similar to memory charms and even the Imperius curse.”

Harry's eyes grew wide again. He was glad to hear that it was regulated, and that so few people could do it. But he wondered who else could do it. Could Voldemort...?  
  
“Yes, Voldemort is one of the few others that is a master Legilimens.” Harry's head snapped over to the headmaster. “I did not need Legilimency to deduce what you might be concerned about, my boy.” Dumbledore paused, looking Harry in the eye, his demeanor serious. “I promise you here and now that I have never and will never use Legilimency on you without your permission. Do you believe me? Do you trust me?”

Harry was not sure he trusted anyone or anything right now. He'd been broken and ground into the dirt as easily as humans crushed ants. But there were a few people in his life that he wanted to trust, and the headmaster numbered among them. Besides, at this point, what did he have to lose? He nodded.

Dumbledore smiled. “Thank you, Harry, I cannot tell you what that means to me. Now, one of the things Legilimency allows the user to do is view the memories of another person. The side effect of this, unfortunately, is that the owner of the original memory must relive it with the Legilimens. Given the current status of your voice, I believe this is the best way to tackle the issue. However, I know you may be hesitant to relive the experience so soon after it happened, and with limited time to process everything.”  
  
Harry nodded slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was to see Voldemort again, to see or feel himself as weak and pathetic as he had been.  
  
“I would not ask this of you if we had more time, Harry. Alas, we do not. If what I suspect is true, this war is about to start again as if it never stopped, but with our side at a distinct disadvantage.” All lightness had left the headmaster's voice, and there was a sharp edge to it that Harry had not heard before.

There was little else to do, and Harry knew it. He could give up now, and prove Voldemort right. Certainly, a large part of him wanted to. But he also knew he would not be allowed, and if Hermione knew he was even thinking that way, she'd ream him out for it.

He wasn't sure what was more frightening.

In the end, Harry nodded.

“Very good, my boy.” The headmaster nodded. “Now, what I need you to do is look me in the eyes and relax. You will feel a strange sensation, and I can only imagine what we are going to see will be painful. However, you must not fight either. Confronting the reality of the situation is the first and most important step on the road to healing. Okay?” 

Harry nodded again.

“Remember, I am with you at all times. Fear is normal, but do not let it defeat you. On the count of three...” 

“One. Two. Three. _Legilimens._” 

****HP****

A/N: Voldy's back, and he's not goofin' around.  
  
I don't imagine the chapters will be much longer than this one going forward.

  
Next chapter, we'll get a look at the reality of Voldemort's motives and his first campaign.

Thanks for reading!


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